Somebody to Love
by stuckatschool
Summary: Tate never wanted to die alone. He certainly didn't want to spend his afterlife alone. Violate Rated for mild drug usage.


**I have recently been inspired to write another story for this fandom. I'm taking us back to the beginning, before the lies and the hatred. This couple is so tragic, but i want so much for them to have a happy ending.**

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><p><em><strong>Where there is Love, there is Life - Gandhi.<strong> _

It is widely believed without love, life is a sad and lonely thing to go through.  
>Everyone loves someone or something, whether it be their family, their soul mate, or even their dog.<br>Tate Langdon believed himself to be the exception to this very important rule.  
>He hated his family. His mother was a cheating whore. His father ditched him. Maybe his siblings weren't awful, but when he had to watch them suffer day after day of their mother's mental abuse, he felt like a failure for not being able to protect them. His failure turned into bitterness, which eventually morphed into hatred, not of them, but of himself.<br>Maybe that's why he began doing drugs. It's started off as a one time thing. Just something done in the heat of his self-hatred. But it made him feel so _good_. So **_alive_**. Cutting his wrists was nothing compared to the rush of warmth spreading through his system after inhaling his addiction. When he wasn't completely out of his mind from the drugs, he began hating life even more.  
>Soon this hatred peaked and before his mind could fully process what his body had done, he was lying on the floor, crimson blood seeping into the floorboards.<br>In Tate's last few moments of life, he thought his actions over. He didn't regret what he had done. He helped people. Sent them to a better place. He was going to finally be away from his sham of a family, so no regrets there. But in the back of his mind, the blond teenager was sad. Sad that he had to die alone and unloved.  
>As darkness closed around his vision, Tate Langdon, psychopath, killer, and lost soul, found that he did regret never finding anyone that made him feel loved. Maybe in the next life, there would be someone waiting for him.<p>

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><p>Tate might have miscalculated somewhere. He was suppose to go somewhere better. Someplace clean, where he could be happy, for once.<br>But instead he was stuck in this damn house. This hell on earth.  
>At first, he sulked in the basement, ignorant to all the going on's of the house. But soon, the house whispered to him. Telling him to help the sad lady who wanted nothing more than a baby.<br>For a long time, he tried comforting her. Even saying that she could be his mother. But no. She didn't want the damaged, psychotic teenager. She wanted a beautiful baby to love and hold and coo. And so Tate bided his time. Inhabitants of the house kept arriving, but none were interested in children.  
>Then Chad and Patrick moved in.<br>At first Tate was upset. Two men couldn't make a baby. They needed to go.  
>But just as he was getting to go in for the kill, he heard them talking.<br>" Wouldn't a little baby girl be perfect?" asked the dark haired one, obviously the dominant one of the relationship.  
>" What about a boy? Someone we can play catch with. . ." The blond replied.<br>His partner looked at him.  
>" I suppose we can talk about it later."<br>Tate backed away from the door and went back down to the basement. He slowly approached Nora, bending down so they were face to face.  
>" I have good news. The owners are going to get a baby. For you" he said with a smile.<br>Nora gave a cry of delight and grasped Tate tightly.  
>He hugged her back, waiting for the warm feeling of being loved to spread through him. Yet there was nothing.<br>Nora released him, kissed his cheek, then walked away humming lullabies, leaving the boy all alone, feeling cold and sad.

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><p>In the damp, dark corner of the murder house basement, a angry ghost sat, his face tear stained, his hand tugging of his hair. Every few minutes, he shifted uncomfortably in his latex outfit.<br>" This isn't fair" he said to no one in particular.  
>" I've done everything you asked. Absorbed every suggestion you threw my way. And what do I have to show for it? I'm a murder, dead and alone." he said, venom lacing his every word.<br>The house moaned, as if asking him what he wanted.  
>Tate thought for a minute.<br>" I want someone to come here. For me. Bring me someone that I can have."

The house buzzed in excitement. A family was coming to view the house today. The family had suddenly stumbled upon an ad for the house one day, when a newspaper was left curiously upon their front doorstep, even though they didn't subscribe to it.  
>Tate found himself perched on the staircase, eagerly waiting to see what the house had brought for him.<br>The door opened, and he perked up.  
>The first one through the door was the small realtor. Tate didn't really like her, but she did bring the people to the house, so he couldn't do anything about it. Next, came a tall blond woman, clad in skimpy clothes in a pathetic attempt to look half her age. She reminded him of his mother and harbored an instant dislike for her. Following her like a sad puppy was a man that was small in stature. He seemed intimated by the house and for a brief second, Tat felt a bit of pity for him.<br>" I don't know. I want something glitzy. Something that just says 'look at me'" said the too tan woman.  
>" Trust me," Marcy said in her best realtor voice " This house brings all the attention you could want"<br>The wife still didn't seemed convince.  
>" What do you think Stacy?" she yelled in a high pitched voice that made Tate cringe.<br>The sound of approaching footsteps made Tate sit straighter. His heart beat in his chest and his palms grew sweaty in anticipation.  
>In stepped a young girl, no more than 16 despite her obvious desire to be seen as mature. She had bright blond hair and shiny brown eyes, surrounded by make up. Her outfit was three sizes to small, showing every one of her 'assets'. She was every guy's wet dream.<br>Tate scowled in disgust. He was quick to jump to his feet and slam every door and window he could find as hard as he could until the family ran screaming from the property.  
>The house groan in annoyance, when made Tate scoff.<br>" Try it again. This time, less slutty."

The house's second try happened before Tate even realized it. He was in the attic, playing with his brother when he head voices on the floor below him.  
>He climbed down, only to catch a glimpse of black darting into his old room. He quietly approached the entrance to the room, this time more hesitant.<br>Peaking inside, he saw what appeared to be a figure in all black. When said figure turned, he saw the girl and almost laughed.  
>She had heavy make-up on, even more than the last one. Black eyeliner smeared across her eyes, while black lipstick painted her mouth. She wore a black trench coat with what seemed to be army clothes underneath.<br>Tate considered her for a moment. Ok, she dressed ridiculously, but maybe she was cool to talk to. Maybe she read the same books or watched the same movies as him.  
>Then she opened her mouth.<br>" Oh dark spirits of this house, please fill me with your evil visions and guide me to the path of the damned! See into my soul and view the hatred I have for . . . Everything!" she said in a deep voice.  
>Tate almost gagged.<br>" You want darkness, huh?"  
>He reached out and grabbed her shoulder. Only a slight touch.<br>He eyes widened and she screamed.  
>" Mommy!" she cried out, sprinting down the stairs.<br>Tate flopped onto the floor, deciding that house was just screwing with him and had no intention of helping him.

Heavy thumps sounded above his head.  
>" More people. Wonderful" the teenage boy thought, not even bothering to go upstairs. He gave up. He was damned to forever haunt this house alone. Suddenly, a small dog flopped down the stairs. It stood at the bottom, silent for 2 heart beats, then started barking at him. He just started back, vaguely wondering if he could scare it to death.<br>The door creaked above him, signaling the arrival of someone new.  
>Tate didn't bother to move from his position on the cold hard floor of the basement, knowing that he couldn't be seen until he wanted to be.<br>The first thing he saw of her was her old and tattered sneakers. Then he saw the bottom of her long dress, something even Constance wouldn't wear. Next came her small hand, sliding down the wooden railing, and if he wasn't mistaken, he could see the beginning of cuts along the inside of her wrist.  
>He titled his head up. Her face was hidden by shadows until she hit the very last step.<br>Tate stopped breathing.  
>She definitely wasn't one of those girls that boys dreamed about, but she would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life, he was sure. She was beautiful.<br>Long blond hair that clung to her face delicately. Hazel eyes that seemed to be taking in everything at once. A thin frame that was neither underdeveloped nor over, though that last one was a guess for her extremely modest clothing left much to the imagination. But that was ok. He liked to use his imagination.  
>She looked around the basement. As she scanned the area, Tate felt himself stiffen at it seemed her eyes landed on him, even though he knew that it wasn't possible. He sat, waiting for her to do something.<br>Then, she smiled.  
>And he smiled back<br>" Violet!"  
>The girl snapped her attention to the basement door. Looking around one more time, she then quickly scooped the small dog up and ascended the stairs.<br>Tate ran to the bottom of the stairs and clung to the railing, as if waiting for her return.  
>The house let out a quick creek, to which Tate smiled happily at.<br>" Yeah. Her"

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><p>It was her first night sleeping in the house. Her room <em>( his room. <strong>Their<strong> room)_ was a mess with half of her belongings still in boxes.  
>She slept soundly in her bed, snuggled into her soft purple comforter.<br>Tate stood at the end of the bed, just watching.  
>For the first time in a long time, he felt tired and wished he could crawl into bed with this strange new girl he didn't even know.<br>No, not strange. Unique. And he did know her.  
>Her name was Violet. She kept razors in her sock drawer, hidden in a pair of pink kitten socks that she would never even dream of wearing.<br>She liked reading outdated poetry and listening to angry and moody music, some of which he knows, but most of which he has no clue about.  
>He knows she not happy. Hasn't been for a long time maybe.<br>Leaning forward, the ghost boy looked closer as her lips parted to breath, and was slightly upset he didn't know what her lips felt like or what her mouth tasted like.  
>Yeah, he learned enough about her on his own. But from now on, he decided, everything he learned about her, she was going to tell him.<br>And pretty soon, he was going to have someone to love. He was sure of it. Violet was the one for him.  
>Eventually, she was going to his Violet, and her would be her Tate.<br>Tate silently thanked the house for finally rewarding him for doing as it asked, then ran the back of his hand along her cheek which made her eyes flutter for a moment before she rolled onto her stomach.  
>He left her to her dreams, confidant that, after tomorrow's session with her father where he would introduce himself to her, those dreams would soon be filled with him.<br>And maybe one day, she can stay with him forever. But if and when that day comes, she won't die like him, full of hatred and alone. No, she would die with him around her, together and loved.

**_Thank you for reading :D_**


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